


Playing For Family

by AsagaoSylph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gifts, Guitarist Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, M/M, Set in Season 1, Sweet, Team as Family, supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsagaoSylph/pseuds/AsagaoSylph
Summary: “Our last allies, the mighty and respectable Alteans, were the only ones who knew how to play it besides one of our own. To perform on this instrument is to display one’s true nobility, and will determine the worthiness of potential allies. Whether you are Altean or not,” he added with a disappointed shake of his head, “if you cannot play this instrument, you are not fit to be our ally.”
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Lance & Lance's Family (Voltron), Lance & Voltron: Legendary Defender Team
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113





	Playing For Family

It was _supposed_ to be a simple mission! The planet wasn’t even infested with Galra; it had been free for the last ten decaphoebs due to its military prowess! It should have just been go in, make an alliance, and leave. The Yuroliaks had been friendly with Altea in the past, and Allura insisted that she come along to help with negotiations because she had such fond memories of the beautiful music they used to play. Even Coran had decided to tag along, commenting with a twist of his mustache that Yuroliak culture was one of the finest in the galaxy, well-known for their bright and colorful clothing, elaborate music, and delicious food. They had a fine military, but were entirely peaceful unless provoked. Despite these reassurances, Keith had insisted on carrying his bayard with that grumpily determined look that promised Shiro he would lose this fight. So, with a sigh, the Black Paladin had just told Allura to let the Yuroliaks know that Voltron was coming. Allura had conversed with the leader, seemingly quite cheerfully, and gained permission to land.

So why exactly were they now surrounded at swordpoint with Keith only being blocked from stabbing someone by Shiro?

“This is why I said we should bring our bayards!” He snarled, and Lance could practically see Shiro’s thought of _this is exactly why I didn’t want us to bring our bayards, actually!_ written across his face.

“We come in peace!” Cried Allura, holding up her hands to show that she, at least, was unarmed. “We wish to invite you to join in the Voltron Coalition, which fights against Zarkon!”

“Princess Allura, I would have thought you knew our customs,” replied the leader with something bordering on sadness crinkling in the corners of his eyes. “We ally ourselves with none unless they display prowess on the Zixe, the glorious instrument King Alfor left us centuries ago.”

The Yuroliak gestured to a nearby table, bearing a large, red hourglass-shaped instrument with a long piece of wood sticking out of the top and strings running down it. A small rectangle opened under the strings, revealing its hollow blue interior, and vaguely resembling an Earthen guitar.

“Our last allies, the mighty and respectable Alteans, were the only ones who knew how to play it besides one of our own. To perform on this instrument is to display one’s true nobility, and will determine the worthiness of potential allies. Whether you are Altean or not,” he added with a disappointed shake of his head, “if you cannot play this instrument, you are not fit to be our ally.”

Keith was so tempted to point out that it was just a hunk of wood and some strings, but the look Shiro shot him was warning enough. Allura twisted her hands as she stared at the battered instrument, her throat closing up and heart clenching painfully. She had never seen it before. It was a part of her heritage, her planet, her culture, but she didn’t recognize it at all. Her lack of knowledge about _her own people_ would cost them a powerful ally at this rate! She had figured out how to heal the Balmera without any teaching, could she do the same with this? It was fundamentally Altean, so perhaps…?

“I got this.”

The quiet voice was deafening in the silence, and before Allura could do more than register the hand on her shoulder, a brown hoodie billowed out in front of her. Shiro’s eyes bugged from his skull, and he spun away from Keith to shout, but was cut off by the head Yuroliak.

“You have only one chance. Do you really wish to attempt this, Blue Earthling?”

Lance pulled a cocky smirk onto his face as he replied, but touched the instrument with a gentle reverence completely contrasting his words.

“Heh, I’m a music expert! Just sit back and watch in awe as Lanceylance blows you away again!”

“Lance, this is no game,” started Shiro, but Lance just waved him off as he hopped up to sit on the table.

“I know, I know!”

He brought the instrument into his lap carefully, resting it against one leg and holding the neck in his left hand as he faced the audience. And, just for a second, he thought he saw darker skin, curly hair, and broad smiles against pale-yellow wallpaper. He closed his eyes, clinging to that image, and exhaled deeply. Lance ran his nails down the string, letting the sound waver through the air like fragile glass for a second. Then he smiled. He knew this. He could do this. It wasn’t identical. But it would be close enough.

He began strumming in earnest now, going up and down quickly and powerfully three times, letting a pause echo after each. He could hear the steady tempo of his mom’s foot in his mind, the subdued excitement of his niece and nephew, and the soft swishing of his extensive family’s dancing. A broad smile spread across his face, and words began spilling from his mouth like water as he got into the consistent three-beat rhythm that had accompanied so many post-family dinner parties.

“Cómo comenzamos, yo no lo sé,  
La historia que no tiene fin.  
Ni cómo llegaste a ser la mujer,  
Que toda la vida pedí.”

His family always teased him here, asking which girl from school was “the woman who he asked for all his life” and he would laugh along before roasting one of his siblings for their cowardice when it came to love. Still, even though it was traditionally a romantic song, whenever he played _La Cosa Más Bella_ , he was never singing for any crush. This song, so full of gratitude and unconditional love, was dedicated every single time to the mother who had raised him to regard the world as an unlimited stage of possibilities if he just reached out and grabbed them. This song would always be just for his mother, never any other man or woman.

“Contigo hace falta pasión,  
Y un toque de poesía.  
Y sabiduría, pues yo,  
Trabajo con fantasías.”

Well…components were for his mom, anyway. Lance chuckled, strumming the instrument steadily as if it was the same chipped, sticker-patterned, scratched, and nearly broken guitar his older sister had passed down to him so many years ago. He was the only one that had successfully learned how to play from his grandmother, so his niece and nephew always fell over each other begging him to play some sort of song. In general, because it was both bouncy and sentimental, Lance had discovered through trial-and-error that _La Cosa Más Bella_ was a crowd-pleaser. It didn’t matter if it was his mom swaying in time to the music as she did dishes in the kitchen, his niece and nephew jumping along the floor and screeching along to his singing, or his older sister immediately passing out on the couch when he played it after a long workday; this song was always his go-to when someone asked him to play. It never let him down.

“¿Recuerdas el día que te canté?  
Fue un súbito escalofrío.  
Por si no lo sabes te lo diré:  
Yo nunca dejé de sentirlo.  
Contigo hace falta pasión,  
No debe fallar jamás.  
También maestría, pues yo,  
Trabajo con el corazón.”

Yes, Lance worked with the heart when it came to this song. It was his family’s song. Sure, they hadn’t invented it, and they certainly weren’t the only ones listening to the classic, but it immediately brought a million memories rushing through his mind. Marco proposing to his girlfriend as Lance finished this song during her birthday party. Veronica crying, but ordering him not to stop when he played it for the first time after her husband died. Sylvio and Nadia clumsily learning to dance with Luis and Rachel for the latter’s upcoming graduation party. His mother teaching him the chords for the first time, her warm hands pressed over his. Her touch was always warm.

“Cantar al amor ya no bastará.  
Es poco para mí,  
Si quiero decirte que nunca habrá,  
Cosa más bella que tú,  
Cosa más linda que tú,  
Única como eres,  
Inmensa cuando quieres.  
Gracias por existir—”

“Thank you, Blue Paladin, that is enough,” stated the head Yuroliak sharply, and Lance’s breath hitched as his words were cut off.

No. Wait. The song…it wasn’t done. He still had the bridge and chorus. Nadia never stopped twirling when he got to the bridge. Sylvio’s screeching got particularly pitchy. He wasn’t done—

“You have demonstrated excellence on the instrument. Please, come in, and we will discuss this alliance you have proposed.”

Allura broke into a huge smile, and clasped the offered hand with more than just politeness. These people reminded her of Altea so much; she couldn’t lose such an important bond with them. Both for the Voltron Coalition, and for herself.

“Thank you.”

“Please, come this way.”

Allura stepped quickly to keep pace with the long-legged Yuroliaks, giving Lance a grateful look as she passed. She would thank him properly later, when there was enough time to truly explain how important this was to her.

Lance’s grip on the instrument tightened unconsciously, and his throat closed. That’s right. Nadia wasn’t here. Neither was Sylvio. It didn’t matter if he didn’t finish the song. This was just a political move, a tool to secure an alliance, nothing more. He wasn’t playing for his family anymore. He was playing for his team’s lives now. And none of them even knew the lyrics.

“Well done, Lance!”

A hand clapped down on the armored shoulder, and Lance jerked his head up in surprise as Shiro beamed at the Cuban, words both proud and gentle at the same time. “I was worried for a moment there, not sure how we were going to pull this off, but you really stepped up for the team again. Good work!”

“Th-thanks.”

Shiro’s smile only grew in response, and then he hurried past.

“Now come on, let’s secure this alliance!”

Lance stared at the retreating back and blew out a long breath. It was true. They would need him there for this meeting; he was the one who had demonstrated excellence, and their credibility hinged on him. He should get moving.

“Nice work, Lance!”

Pidge punched his shoulder cheerfully as she dashed forwards, the toothy smile on her face nothing like the teasing grins of his siblings. Lance’s breath caught in his throat.

“Man, why didn’t you tell me you still play? I’d have found you a guitar at the Garrison!” Said Hunk with a grin, slapping his back and beaming with eyes crinkled shut in the way that had surprised Lance so many years ago when he first saw it in kindergarten.

The shine in Lance’s eyes had nothing to do with the sun.

“Not too shabby, Sharpshooter!” Was Keith’s brief comment as he dashed past, throwing a smirk over his shoulder before focusing completely forward.

Daring Lance to stay caught in the past and be outpaced. Daring him to be left behind. A sharp reminder of the present.

“Yeah, I know I’m great!” Replied Lance, puffing out his chest as he jumped off the table and raced after his team.

No; he raced after his family. They were nothing like his family on Earth, but he wouldn’t change a thing. Still, it would be nice to maybe get to play for them again when it wasn’t necessarily a life-or-death situation…

Lance leaned against the railing, a pleased hum on his lips as he gazed at the skies beyond. The evening had passed peacefully, with the Yuroliaks agreeing readily to every condition stipulated by Allura, and a party being thrown in celebration afterwards. Lance had spent much of the evening dancing, showing Pidge how to do basic steps without crushing his toes, running wacky choreographed dances with Hunk, and gliding along with whatever alien asked him to dance. Shiro had hidden near the food table with the excuse that he was keeping watch, but Lance wasn’t fooled for half a second. Their leader just had zero clue how to dance. Keith had vanished after Lance had first pulled Pidge onto the dance floor, though the brunette had no clue where the older boy had wandered off to.

Eventually, the music wound down, and Lance had been shocked to see that the night sky of this planet looked exactly like the bottom of the bay just off Varadero Beach. So, as quietly as he could, he slipped away to a balcony and allowed himself to just drink in the beautiful sight. It was nostalgic, but not painfully so. The sort of thing that reminded him of how far he had come, and exactly where he was going back to when he had a million amazing space stories to tell. Where he was going back as a hero, head raised high. No regrets.

“Lance.”

It really was amazing, how much that voice reminded him of hot chocolate. Rich, occasionally steaming, and with a sweet undertone.

“Hey, Keith! Where’d you run off to earlier? I haven’t seen you all evening, Mullet-head!” Complained Lance, turning with a lazy smile to see the older teen leaning against the doorway.

Keith didn’t answer, just stared at the blue-eyed Cuban with his signature scowl hovering on his lips. “What?” Asked Lance slowly, inching back.

If Keith was angry, it usually appeared in a volcanic eruption, not concentrated staring, so he probably wasn’t mad? But Keith wasn’t exactly the party type either, so maybe he was just bored? Did he seriously have that much of a resting bitc—

“The instrument.” Keith’s response made Lance jump, and he shook himself from his thoughts with some effort.

“Wha—?”

“The instrument you played earlier.”

Keith was full-on scowling now, fingers picking at his sleeve and glare strengthening as he continued. “You were smiling a lot when you played, and, well, when the guy told you to stop, um, I guess, I thought you looked kind of…upset.”

Lance stared. Had _Keith_ of all people just revealed that he could actually read social cues better than Hunk? Seeing past Lance’s mask wasn’t exactly easy either!

“You were, I don’t know, not putting it down, and you kept tapping the song’s rhythm afterwards, so I thought, I don’t know, maybe you liked playing it?”

Oh, never mind, there was the old socially inept Keith. Yes, in general, smiling means someone likes doing something. Honestly, this poor—

“So I made them show me their collection.” As he spoke, Keith reached around the corner and pulled out an awkwardly wrapped present. “I picked one out. It has some blue carvings on it, and, uh, I thought you might like to…play it some time? Like, when we get back to the Castle? I think it might force Pidge to get some actual decent sleep for once!” Joked Keith uncomfortably, still holding out the package to Lance.

The taller boy was pretty sure that was his jaw on the ground over there. _Keith Kogane_ , who he had thought totally hated his guts, had gone out of his way with _formerly hostile strangers_ to get _Lance_ an instrument he liked, _and the dork had even made sure it had blue carvings in it?_ Lance gulped and reached out slowly, hands shaking just a bit as he accepted the package.

The moment it left Keith’s hands, the wrapping completely fell apart, flopping on the ground in messy heaps that sent Lance into guffaws of laughter. Keith turned bright red and stuttered out insults, but Lance just laughed harder.

“Oh man!” He gasped out between chuckles, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “You go to all this trouble to get me this…! And the paper just!” A wave of laughter interrupted his comment, and Keith finally gave up and laughed along with him.

“Yeah, I’m not really used to this,” he admitted sheepishly.

Lance just grinned in response.

“I know. So, thank you, Keith.”

Lance looked down at the instrument, and his smile turned soft as he continued. “Really, thank you.”

There was a long moment of silence between the two paladins, but just as Keith got ready to say he should go, Lance’s warm voice broke the quiet. It was almost hesitant, but unspeakably kind, and just a little brave too. “Do you want to hear the rest of the song?”

Keith blinked, then smiled and relaxed against the door frame. He closed his eyes.

“Sure.”

Lance wasted no time, jumping right in where he left off. Shiro smiled as he leaned against the nearest wall, just barely out of sight, and Pidge grinned from where she was eavesdropping through a camera she had set up earlier. Obviously Lance had been acting a little weird, and what exactly was the point of being a genius hacker and technician if she couldn’t even help her space brother?

Hunk relaxed from his position across from Shiro, letting out a sigh of relief. He had been going to check on Lance to see if he was holding up okay after the instrument thing, since music had been so prominent within his family. It seemed like he was doing pretty good though.

Allura nodded approvingly from her place beside the head Yuroliak, but made a mental note to properly thank Lance later for securing this alliance and bringing her just a little closer to her lost heritage. Coran finally focused back on his trading deals on fabric, a wave of relief washing through him at the sight of Lance relaxing with the instrument on his lap. Clearly music was an intergalactic affair.

Lance cleared his throat and sung. The first time he had been singing, it was for his family. For Rachel, who was probably flirting with way too many girls back on Earth, and Luis, whose birthday had just passed the week before. For Marco, whose wedding was in four months, and Veronica, who was probably overworking herself even as he played. For Nadia and Sylvio, who were stubbing their toes on tables or knocking over vases or asleep under their shared patchwork blanket even now. For his grandparents, who were sipping tea and singing along to the radio, and his parents, who were cooking together in the kitchen as he played the song he used to sing with them. He had been singing for them.

“Cómo comenzamos yo no lo sé.  
La historia que toca a su fin.  
¿Qué es ese misterio que no se fué?  
Lo llevo aquí dentro de mí.”

This time, this song was for his space family. For his sleep-deprived little gremlin of an honorary sister, who always had their backs on and off the battlefield, and gave her everything to those she loved. For his overly cautious and easily panicked gem of a brother, who knew that cooking made everyone involved that much happier, and who put his family before everything else. For his uptight yet goofy space dad, who was there to make them feel challenged and loved at the same time, and who refused to send any of them into a dangerous situation without him running right by their side. For his brave and thoughtful older sister, who dedicated herself to justice and a better future for all, and never gave up on anyone no matter what. For his wacky and occasionally indecipherable space uncle, who was always happy to keep up with his jokes and translate a lesson on Altean for Lance, the one who supported those he called family without hesitation. And for Keith, the reckless, bonding-obsessed mullet-head whose retorts and heartfelt actions always made Lance want to try just a little harder, push himself just a little bit further. His inspiration, his comrade, his rival, his…his friend. No, more than that. Keith was part of his family here.

“Serán los recuerdos que no,  
No dejan pasar la edad.  
Serán las palabras pues yo,  
Sabrás, mi trabajo es la voz.”

They were all his precious, irreplaceable family.

“Cantar al amor ya no bastará.”  
Es poco para mí,  
Si quiero decirte que nunca habrá,  
Cosa más bella que tú,  
Cosa más linda que tú,  
Única como eres,  
Inmensa cuando quieres.  
Gracias por existir.”

And these ones, he wouldn’t lose. No matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!
> 
> This is really old, but I was in a musical mood, so!  
> My tumblr is at https://asagaosylph.tumblr.com/ :D


End file.
